


They're Only Socks

by SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jaskier cries, M/M, Not Beta Read, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Why would you read these two as platonic?, can be read as platonic, rated T because of one swear word and I like to be safe rather than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight/pseuds/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight
Summary: Jaskier ruins his favorite socks. Geralt fixes it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 99





	They're Only Socks

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was inspired by this work: https://0peliu.tumblr.com/post/614421109834678273/ by Opeliu. GO check her out! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sennextheassasinkingoflight
> 
> Enjoy!

They arrived at another tavern. It’s nicer than some they have been in recently. The town too, is larger than the last couple. It’s a nice change, Jaksier insists, because now he has more people to work with. In terms of the bard collecting coins this is good. Geralt wrinkles his nose anyways. The main room smells of stale beer and piss, faint wisps of tobacco smoke linger in the air. Turning pale blue and grey in the air. He sighs through his nose. The tavern is also an inn and Jaskier practically begs that they stay the night. Geralt aquesses easier than he might normally because he is tired too. For once they aren't short on coin which is good. What is bad, however, is that Roach needs some new tack, Geralt needs to repair some of his armor, and Jaskier wants some new clothes, and maybe a horse, or at least new boots.

It doesn’t take long for Jaskier to win the crowd over. He quickly riles them into rambunctious laughter and dance. The ale flows freely. Geralt watches Jaskier prance around the room, lute in hand. He hides the faintest smile behind his tankard and lets his eyes follow the bards movements. By midnight he thinks it’s time for them to go to bed. He wants to head out early, and at this rate Jaskier will be nursing a hangover. 

He scowls when he looks up. Jaskier is bootless and crying. When had he taken his boots off? Geralt stands from his table and approaches Jaskier. The crowd has thinned out considerably and quiet is beginning to settle in the now empty air.  
“Jaskier… why are you.” He gestures at the bard’s face. 

“Geralt!” The bard exclaims and staggers towards him, he trips and braces on Geralt’s chest. 

“I’s cause I’m ‘appy. I think. Maybe?” He hiccups and then his lip trembles, “and cause I’m scared.” 

“Scared?” The bard nods.

“Where are your boots.” 

“I don’t know” the bard sobs, “are you mad.” He hiccups again. “Ow. They hurt Geralt.” He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hands. 

“Come on, off to bed, bard.” Geralt hides a laugh in the words and takes Jaskier by the shoulder. 

Jaskier stumbles again and Geralt rolls his eyes. He picks the musician up bridal style. Jaskier wraps his arms around the witchers neck and shoulders and then looks away from him and then with distress on his features says, 

“My right and left toes are freezing.” 

Tears stream down his face, his red doublet is undone, and his socks are mismatched. He hiccups again. Geralt gives a cursory glance towards Jaskiers feet. 

“No shit.” He looks back at the bard face. Jaskier still looks away from him. 

“Why are they cold Geralt?”

“You tore your socks.”

“Noooooo these are my favvvvorite socksssss. Geralt. My very very favrotist. Now they’re ruined.” 

The bard buries his face in Geralt's shoulder and the witcher lets him. What else is he supposed to do?He carries the bard up the stairs and deposits him on the bed. 

“Go to sleep Jask.” 

The bard fights with his doublet and Geralt takes pity on him, helping him out of it. The bard takes his socks off and sniffles. Geralt takes them from him, and drops them to the floor and nudges him under the covers. 

“Sleep. I'm going to find your boots.”

He leaves the room then. It doesn’t take long to locate them, one on each side of the table Jaskier had used as a stage. He requests a mug of water from the tavern owner and disappears back up the stairs. He sets the water on the bed side table. He lets out a soft huff and picks up Jaskiers socks from where he let them fall on the floor. 

‘His very favorite huh?’

He shakes his head and then sets about washing them in the washing bowl. When he finishes he lets them dry on the back of a chair near the fire in the hearth, it’s early spring and the nights are still cold. He tends to his armor and his swords, when he finishes he looks at the socks again. He picks up the suture kit, if he can stitch flesh he can stitch cloth. He pulls them down and begins darning the socks. When he finishes, he smiles with satisfaction and hangs them back up to finish drying. He casts a look around the room. His gaze settles on Jaskier and then he slips into bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping bard. He doesn’t know why he’s done it. They’re only socks after all.

In the morning Jaksier remembers only a little bit of what happened. He recalls saying they were his favorite socks, and if they weren’t before, they certainly were now. 

Jaskier beams. They’re only socks, but maybe they mean more.


End file.
